


The Black Band:  Prologue

by Sarina_Argus



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 22:09:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19385575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarina_Argus/pseuds/Sarina_Argus





	The Black Band:  Prologue

I stepped off the transport and squinted in the bright sunlight. Two years. It'd been two years since I'd been back and then it was for less than pleasant circumstances. Sensing the air around me, I wondered if it was this time would be any different.

I walked past the temple and down another alley to a non-descript little café, straightening my civilian clothes as I went. I'd been here before, so it wasn't hard to find. The hostess smiled as I entered.

"Do you have a reservation for Doma Prinsel?"

Her smile faltered a bit. She glanced down at her data slate. "Yes, um... You should proceed to the lower rooms." She didn't look up again. She seemed a bit shaken.

I thanked her. I shouldn't have been surprised. I should have been used to the reaction. We all give people this reaction, even without the robes.

It still doesn't make it any easier.

I was entering the turbo lift when I heard a voice yelling for me to hold the door. Guin Cris hurried onto the lift. Curious.

"Thanks--" He smiled in surprised recognition. "Kev? Gods, it's been a while." I clapped him on the shoulder as I shook his hand.

"Too long," I agreed. "Where are you headed?"

"Lower rooms. You?"

I frowned. "Same."

"What's going on?"

I shrugged. "No idea. I suppose all will be revealed in time."

"Impatient are you," he replied in one of the better impressions of Master Yoda I'd heard. "For a Jedi, not good. On patience meditate you should."

I bowed a little too low. "Of course, Master. And while I'm down here, would you like me to shine your toes?"

"A bright gloss, of course. So up my robes, the women can see-"

I laughed loudly then. "Gods, don't give me nightmares." He grinned back, not the least bit ashamed.

The door slid open in with a silent hiss. Sixteen faces turned to us. And then it made sense, but then again, not at all.

See, we were all black bands.

~~~~~~~~~~  
When a student is taken as a padawan learner, he or she meditates with his or her master to determine what their first chosen field is. Whatever they determine is signified by the top band on the padawan braid. It's usually white for Jedi Healer, yellow for saber or weapons master, blue for mechanics or engineers, red for pilots, the list goes on. Most padawans have 2 bands, meaning 2 specialties. The second band is something chosen by the padawan only, what they feel is their calling. The second band is also the only time the black band  
can be chosen.

A black band signifies the study of the shadow ways. Anything not considered to be very 'honorable' is considered part of the shadow arts. We end up being assassins, saboteurs, spies, thieves... we do the council's dirty work. No one is pushed into this, and masters caution their students against the choice. My own master threatened, begged and pleaded, and finally wept when he realized I'd not change my mind. For us, it's our calling. There aren't very many of us, but  
when we all get called together, it's because of death; one of our own, or one we caused. Or will cause.

The last time the black bands were called together before was when Tal-Ishara Kender, another black band, was killed somewhere near Dathomir. Publicly, we went to honor our fallen comrade. Privately, we were asked by Master Toth (the Jedi who trained her) to search for her remains. I volunteered along with 2 others, but we couldn't find anything.

In any case, calling the black bands together is indicative of bad things to come.

Master Windu is a black band too.  
~~~~~~~~~~

I was hardly out of the lift when Riix Precis was brushing my cheek. Twi’leks do that, it's like a handshake, but from Riix, it's a thousand times more pleasant. She's the only Twi’lek among us, but if there was anyone I'd take into a fight, she'd be the one. People tend to underestimate her, mostly because she's Twi’lek. She's also one of the most decorated Jedi in the order. And probably one of the most deadly.

"Guin! Kev! Damn, it's been a while." She threw her arms around my neck and hugged me quickly. "Do you know what's going on?"

I held her loosely. "I was hoping you could tell me. Is Master Windu here?"

"Not yet. Kiri and I are over there if you two want to join us." She reached her hand out to Guin. "Come on."

We followed her over to a corner table where Kiri sat. While we walked, I recognized almost everyone in that room. High level black bands, we were. Not a good sign. Kiri saw us coming and waved to another server. Pretty soon, we had drinks, menus, and more questions than we started with.

"I was on Corellia when he called me up. Five months of work, gone. And the worst part was handing off to Trella. " Kiri shook her head. "He means well, but damn, he couldn't find his way out of an open room."

"I was on Prakkis," Riix chimed in. "My mark was some senator that should have 'target' tattooed on his forehead. The man needs to learn to duck."

I frowned. "Dead?"

Riix snorted. "I wish. Then at least I'd get to put more clothes on."

Guin sighed dramatically. "Oh, lament of the lone Twilek... The ship is too hot/ the rooms are too cold/ and my mark's a 10-handed Kel. I'm covered in slime/ almost all of the time/ but at least it's more comfy than hell..."

Laughter trickled over as Ando, a Mon Calmari seated at the table closest to us joined in. "I'm the black banded Twi’lek/I'm a black banded Jedi/and I gave my last master the fits. We'd been sent to expose a corrupted old Hutt/ but all I exposed were my-"

"Hey!" Riix showed half-heartedly. She stood up quickly and attempted a scowl, which quickly dissolved into giggles. "Gods, I haven't heard that one for a while."

"Neither have I."

We all turned at that voice. Master Windu had arrived.

He wore civilian clothes, but his expression was as serious as it always was. Most people would say they'd never seen him smile. I'm not one of them, but then seeing him smile isn't always a good thing. He strode in, shaking off the exaggerated swagger we'd seen him use before to blend in. This was when he was most dangerous. He came in with a purpose, one that resonated with every step.

"Glad you all could make it." He walked to the service table and grabbed a drink, staring at Lara Mn'to, a Zabrak a few years older than me. "I trust you had the place cleaned?"

Lara nodded. "Twice. Demma and I went over it twice."

"Good." He leaned against the edge of our table. "In case you're wondering, I need volunteers. Dangerous, as usual, but I've chosen you because of your skills. I don't think you'll have any problems, if you choose to stay."

"What's the mark?" Tem Akra asked. Most people would say 'who', not 'what' but then personifying a dead man isn't the way to stay emotionally detached. Tem was a master of emotional detachment.

"Not yet," Master Windu answered. "First, you all need to know this. I am sending you out."

We all stopped cold then. What he was telling us was that this wasn't a council directive. He handpicked us for a mission he didn't want the council to know about. I glanced at Guin. He had the same dead expression that Master Windu had.

"What's the mark?" Guin echoed.

Windu looked around and studied the people in the room. No one moved. Everyone looked at him with the same serious determination. Finally, he turned to me. If I had any doubts before, they'd have all faded at that one look.

"What's the mark?" I said, equally serious.

He smiled slightly then, and it wasn't a good smile. "What do you know of the Lost Twenty?"

"Half of them are dead, the other half are scattered all over the galaxy." I answered.

"Very good." He turned to the rest of the group. "The dead half aren't our problem, save one. But that's another briefing."

Riix cocked an eyebrow. "So you're saying..."

"The mark is the lost twenty. Or what's left of them." He stood up then and walked through the room. "You'll get your marks tonight, along with what information I can give you. Two to one. You'll figure it out from there."

He glanced around the room once more. "I chose you because you can do the job. If you need guidance, you can contact me. May the Force be with you."

I caught him just before he entered the lift. "Master. Two to one leaves one of the ten loose."

My master gave me that look he got when we were hunting. "Dooku is mine. Good hunting, padawan." 

"May the Force be with you, master."

The doors slid shut.

 

End prologue


End file.
